Sucker Love

Chapter 4 • Draco






Chapter 4
• Draco

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It was really strange – the whole situation. Seeing
Granger for the first time since her big disappearance should’ve been
more...eventful. I’d figured for a big fuss, lots of name-calling and
interesting places both of us could go.

 

She sure as hell changed.

 

Instead of sending me death glares, she just studied me as
if I was the person she wanted to look at after not seeing Hogwarts for a year.
She just gave me a polite smile in place of the expected, utterly pedestrian
insult that was always directed my way. The chick acted like we were old
buddies and she was mildly annoyed with me for taking her hairbrush without
asking. Plus, I was pretty sure she’d been checking me out. That brought a
smile to my face; which brought a smile to hers.

 

I couldn’t help but be awed at how the entire situation
was unfolding – it presented itself to be tailor-made to my bet. And I was
loving it – less work, same outcome. With the new approach Hermione – I meant,
Granger – was trying out with me, fucking her seemed to come hand-in-hand. I
knew I had to ‘prove myself’ to her still – that was a given. I realized that
to her I’d always been the Big Bad Wolf to her group of heroic little pigs.

 

I suddenly frowned. It went unnoticed. Where the hell did
that Muggle reference come from? It was definitely fucking unnecessary. I know
I’d said I didn’t believe in ‘Mudblood’ references and all that crap but I
meant that strictly in a ‘Purebloods are assholes, too’ sense. I certainly
didn’t like Muggles. I just picked my friends – or alliances – by intelligence.
I shook my head – this was all irrelevant to the situation. I set my mind on
track: Granger – bet – fuck – prize. There. I decided to let the reference pass
– momentary lapses of sanity happened. Not to me, but there was a first for
everything.

 

Perhaps it was Granger affecting me. She was sending off
those ‘peace for all’ vibes. Although, it did seem to have a different...tone
to it now. Not that I’m admitting I’d ever paid attention to someone as
insignificant to me as her, but there was an air of difference about her. She n’t n’t seem to give a damn as much anymore. I could tell by little things she
did because Pansy did them, too. Like the way her eyes stared off into space
when those morons, Potter and Weasley, bombarded her with questions or the way
she smiled and agreed with me even though she knew that the Great Scar-Bearer
and Associates wouldn’t approve. Okay, safe to say that that was solely a
developing Granger trait – Pansy never agreed with me intentionally.

 

Oh, yeIt wIt was safe to say that Granger had changed. Her
appearance was no exception either. Her hair was straight now – with perhaps a
bit of a wave to it. I couldn’t tell – check and their bloody hair charms were
thankfully beyond me. That was one thing I was proud to say I didn’t have an
opinion and/or knowledge of.

 

But her body had changed, too. As a proud male for
seventeen years running, my eyes were pleased to see Granger’s gangly body melt
into luscious curves that were in now way unnoticeable. She was no Pansy – that
was for sure, but not bad. IN the higher ranks of the school, I’d place if I
did say so myself – as a certified, class A sex god.

 

I shook my head out of my thoughts. I certainly needed to
work on my short attention span; or Granger needed to work on the excitement of
her life. It was utterly boring. I decided that it was only a plus – not a
reason – that Granger didn’t look like a sl hip hipograff anymore, anyway.
Looks – surprisingly – didn’t mean much to me in this situation. It was my bet
and I intended to win. Granger was mine. Pansy would be mine. What guy wouldn’t
have wanted to be me?

 

“What the hell is Malfoy doing here?”

 

The question finally came after the obligatory, ‘Hermione,
where the hell were you’s were distributed. I grinned. I loved making Potter
and Weasley pissed to no end. Almost loved it as much as my profitable
conquests. My eyes landed on Granger. Almost.

 

“I don’t know,” she answered easily, like it was no big
deal that the Big Bad Wolf was in the doorway of the last standing sturdy,
brick home. I winced inwardly – Muggles and their catchy analogy-fitting
stories. Damn them. “Chilling, I guess.”

 

‘Chilling?’ This was the one time I could honestly say
that I was just as stumped about something as Potter and Weasley. We all stared
at Granger questioningly.

 

“What?” she wondered, eyes wide with humor. “Hanging out?
Kicking it? Out with the homies?” nbspnbsp;

Blank stares ensued.

 

Then, she burst out laughing. Just like that – out of
nowhere. Okay, I thought, that’s what changed about Granger. She’s a few
all-flavored beans short of a carnival bag. I was perplexed. Potter and Weasley
looked the same way. I didn’t sympathize – they could all go to hell. That’s
what I got when I crossed the barrier from ‘Intelligent’ to ‘Good’. Fucking
Gryffindors.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, placing her right arm on her
stomach as her laughter died down. Just a bit. “I couldn’t resist. You guys are
hilarious. Man, I should try that shit on McGonagall.”

 

I continued staring. I felt compelled to ask what
dimension I was in. I didn’t know whether to be surprised that Granger said
‘shit’ or that she’d try any alleged shit on McGonagall. But I didn’t show my
surprise. And after a moment I didn’t even give a cif Gif Granger began singing
the full curse-word symphony.

 

“Hermione,” Potter and Weasley both chorused. I could’ve
sworn they were trying out for synchronized idiocy with all their cunning
remarks. Only Weasley continued, “Maybe we should go inside and talk there.” He
looked me up and down with a scathing look. I had to try very hard not to
laugh. “You – may leave.”

 

I raised an eyebrow and was about to inform him of his
painfully obvious stupidity but then realized that he was practically
advertising that anyway. I settled for employing my face with an amused look
and sticking out my arm in the direction of the – fucking strange, by the way –
opening to their dormitory and common room. My look clearly mocked, “Please,
after you.”

 

Weasley glared at me once more for good measure – and
hysterical it was, by the way – before motioning to Potter and Granger with,
what I guessed was, a Secret Trio handshake type of deal to get into the common
room. My amused look just would not leave my face as I saw him grace me with a
victorious look. I was the anointed master of victorious looks and reasons
behind them – bloody amateurs.

 

It dearly pained me to realize that in order for me to air
quote ‘win over’ Granger, I’d have to spend more time bumping into those two
buffoons. What a precious waste of my life.

 

I waited until the Blessed Trio entered their precious
common room before walking over to the Fat Lady, as everyone had come
accustomed to calling her. She studied me. It was generally a bad thing for a
Slytherin to be near the entrance of the Gryffindor dormitories and I knew I
should be wishing that I’d ‘blend’ and pass unnoticed, but I found myself
thanking Merlin that the monstrosity in pink didn’t mistake me for a wholesome,
holier-than-thou Gryffindor. Really – I was relieved.

 

“A Malfoy, huh?”

 

I wasn’t expecting that. The Fat Lady must’ve heard
Weasley’s irritating blabber.

 

“Yeah,” I answered calmly. Please – like I would deny my
family name to someone who looks like they belong in a Muggle circus. I’d been
to those when I was younger – by pure accident, of course. Scary shit. “Want
the password?”

 

The pink-clad picture looked at me as if a Slytherin
hadn’t just let on that he knew the Gryffindor entrance phrase.

 

“No, thanks,” she finally answered, becoming a bit more animated
and fluffing her hair, “I already know it.” She smirked then cupped her hand
over the side of her mouth as if ready to tell me a major secret. “But it was
sweet of you to offer.”

 

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have time for this. Or I did,
but clipping someone else’s toenails was more appealing.

 

“Candied crystal.”

 

The two of us stared each other down. Fat Lady won.

 

“Are you going to let me in?” I inquired hurriedly. Like
I’d mentioned before, I wasn’t a patient guy.

 

“Don’t have to,” the Fat Lady answered promptly.

 

That took me by surprise but I didn’t let it show. Damn
unpredictable Gryffindors and Co.

 

“But you will,” I countered, looking her straight in the
eye.

  he lhe looked at me. If I were a book, she would’ve been on
the fourteenth chapter by now with all that concentration. She looked. I looked
back. She studied. I blinked.

 

“But I will,” she finally agreed.

 

I don’t know how it happened, but the inquisitive portrait
slid sideways and revealed three seated Gryffindors in the middle of the com roo room through the portrait hole. There seemed to be about twenty other red and
gold bearers crowded around them – probably interrogating Hermione.

 

I was going in to ruin the little White Hat reunion. I
told no lie – it was like an early Christmas for me.

 

“Later, gorgeous,” I whispered to the Fat Lady.

 

“Toodles, Crafty,” she replied cheerfully. I didn’t even
want to knboutbout the ‘crafty’ part.

 

But I was in – and that was incredibly lucky on my part.

 

And off to crash I went.

 

It was so fun being me.